


festive drinks

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ableism, F/F, Femslash Yuletide 2014, Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3105092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malia is invited to Lydia's for their holiday dinner- and there might not be enough punch to deal with Lydia's extended family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	festive drinks

When Malia accepts the invitation to Lydia’s holiday party, she hadn’t been expecting this. She knew it was to be a small family gathering and she would be the only non-family member there, but she hadn’t been ready for the revulsion.

Lydia had warned her, but she thought Lydia was exaggerating. After all, Lorraine had a girlfriend so how much issue could they take with her? This was apparently, not a sound argument. Lydia moved the spiked bowl of punch between them early on and keeps liberally refilling their glasses. Malia holds her hand underneath the table and hopes they either all leave soon, or she drinks enough that her body can’t keep up and she gets drunk.

“Tate eh?” one of the older men asks, dashing her hopes. He was Lydia’s Dad’s brother, she remembers, David or Danny or something.

Malia nods, and he continues. “So you were that little wild girl they found in the woods after all those years. How did you survive?”

Everyone’s staring at her, Lydia squeezing her hand, and for a delirious moment she wants to tell the truth. Wants them to stop sneering at her and cower instead. She doesn’t though, because Lydia wouldn’t like that and she’s working on being a good girlfriend.

“Running a lot. Most of it I blocked out of my memory.”

The grandmother, on Lydia’s Dad’s side of course, mutters about wanting to block this night out and Malia has to bite back a growl. No human on this half of the table has heard, and Malia hopes Lydia wasn’t listening.

“So you’re a little psycho like Lydia here, good to know you all flock together,” the uncle says with a cold smile.

Lydia doesn’t smell any more distressed or sad or surprised, only resigned, and that snaps something inside Malia. She’s never seen Lydia needlessly yield to _anyone_ , and this waste of space wasn’t worth it because of his blood. Thinking of Peter, she wears a fake smile and turns to the man, “Oh? And what is it you do again?”

“I’m a lawyer,” he says, oozing with pride, and one of the younger teens- one of his own Malia thinks- rolls his eyes. The kid hasn’t spoken at all, but has made enough faces that she wishes he would.

The grandmother asks the loud uncle about a case he’s working on- someone suing the town he’s from- and Malia doesn’t need to inhale to feel the gratefulness. She does anyways, the confirmation making her head light.

For the rest of the dinner, the guests aren’t any more polite or kind. Lydia’s mother is safe at the head of the table, the two youngest children by her and telling tales of their elementary school. Lydia’s father is between his two brothers, and doesn’t dissuade them when they talk about marriage being in sudden jeopardy. Malia’s tempted to ask if that broke _his_ marriage, but she’s being good.

They leave once the pumpkin pie is finished, abrupt enough that Malia _knows_ it’s rude. They shuffle out loudly, skipping on complimenting the food and saying goodbye without any wishes for a happy new year.

Lydia’s mom gives them a tired smile, “I’m going to go soak in a bath and read. Don’t worry about cleanup, Meg will be in shortly.”

Lydia turns to her, shoulders relaxing, “Well. That wasn’t half as bad as I feared.”

Malia wants to cry at that. She can only imagine other holidays with that family, of trying to withstand their vitriol alone. Of how they would have reacted to her being found naked in the woods or almost killed.

“We can always kill them if you’d like.”

Lydia laughs, pulling Malia into her lap, “We really could.”

Malia nods quickly, “We just couldn’t tell Scott.”

Lydia smells almost normal again, hands trailing through wavy hair. “No we couldn’t,” she agrees, and leans up to kiss Malia.


End file.
